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Updated: May 11, 2025
His biographer, Edward Dowden, calls it "the costliest monument ever erected to the memory of an English singer," who "...bought, with price of purest breath, A grave among the eternal." Mrs. Shelley put some of her most sacred mementos of the poet between the leaves of Adonais, which spoke to her of his own immortality and omnipresence: "Naught we know dies.
You ought to make it a dialogue, don't you know, like the Platonic dialogues Wilde wrote. John Eclecticon doubly smiled. Well, in that case, he said, I don't see why you should expect payment for it since you don't believe it yourself. Dowden believes there is some mystery in Hamlet but will say no more.
I went into the library, and there sat Dowden contemplatively playing bridge with two of the elderly ladies and Miss Apperthwaite. The last-mentioned person quite took my breath away. There was a sort of splendor about her.
"Thank you for sending for me," he said, cordially. "You've given me a treat. I'm FER Beasley!" Dowden put his hand on my shoulder. He had not observed the third figure still remaining. "Well, sir," he remarked, shaking the snow from his coat, "they were right about one thing: it certainly was mighty low down of Dave not to invite ME and you, too to his Christmas party.
His period of literary production extends from about 1588 to 1613, and falls naturally into four divisions, which Prof. Dowden has named, "In the Workshop" ending in 1596; "In the World" 1596-1601; "Out of the Depths" 1601-1608; and "On the Heights" 1608-1613.
"They bow when they happen to meet, but they haven't exchanged a word since the night she sent him away, long ago." He shook his head, then his countenance cleared and he chuckled. "Well, sir, Dave's got something at home to keep him busy enough, these days, I expect!" "Do you mind telling me?" I inquired. "Is its name 'Simpledoria'?" Mr. Dowden threw back his head and laughed loudly. "Lord, no!
Dowden jumped out of the phaeton with a wave of his hand to the driver, Beasley himself, who clucked to the horse and drove through his open carriage-gates and down the drive on the other side of the house, where he was lost to my view. Dowden, entering our own gate, nodded in a friendly fashion to me, and I advanced to meet him.
It was, perhaps, rather a dangerous thing to do, but as the wounded men were only Germans it did not matter. Captain Dowden took no part in this experiment. In fact he even suggested that it was "a bit thick," but his disapproval did not assume a more tangible form. After finishing one case each, the four surgeons and anæsthetists changed back again.
"What do you think of your candidate NOW?" "Wait," said Dowden. "Who came in the hacks that Grist saw?" This staggered Mr. Peck. He rubbed his mitten over his woollen cap as if scratching his head. "Why," he said, slowly "who in Halifax DID come in them hacks?" "The Hunchbergs," said I. "Who's the Hunchbergs? Where " "Listen," said Dowden.
What on earth are you fellows doing out here?" "We've come to your Christmas party, you old horse-thief!" Thus Mr. Dowden. "HOO-ray!" said Beasley. Dowden turned to me. "Aren't you coming?" "What are you waiting for, old fellow?" said Beasley. I waited a moment longer, and then it happened.
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